


Guide for the Depraved | Whispers from the Wishmill

by kurolum



Series: Dragalia Lust : Whispers from the Wishmill [1]
Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: #blessed, Breast Fucking, Come as Lube, F/M, Hand Jobs, Redemption, Regret, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurolum/pseuds/kurolum
Summary: Reborn from the ashes of dark mana, Jeanne d'Arc must face a trial - to redeem the tainted soul of a boy in the Halidom whose lust knows no bounds.
Series: Dragalia Lust : Whispers from the Wishmill [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183556
Kudos: 2





	Guide for the Depraved | Whispers from the Wishmill

The station of Roostkeeper is a curious one - existing nowhere in all of Grastaea besides that enigma of a castle tucked away in the Mistholt.

Within the Halidom, the prince's many pactbound wyrms take residence in a place aptly named the "Dragon's Roost". With their numbers ever growing, the Roost has developed as well: a veritable biome of different habitats designed to accommodate the many dragons. Of course, this arrangement does not suit all. Some dragons never stay put; some prefer more secluded locations. As for the dragons who take on a human visage, they are provided their own living quarters as any other resident of the Halidom would be granted; though still being dragons, these quarters are kept near the Roost for the sake of peace and harmony.

Given the conditions of the Roost, the day-to-day job of the Roostkeeper is, naturally, to tend to the dragons living there - whether it be providing them sustenance, cleaning, or otherwise. For this purpose, all Roostkeepers own a set of keys to the quarters of the humanoid dragons in the event of an emergency (a compromise agreed upon by all residents of the Roost). Under normal circumstances these would remain unused out of respect for the dragons and their privacy, but such notions are oft overlooked by the young.

This is what brings us to a Halidom-dwelling boy in the prime of his puberty, abnormally in heat at all hours of the day. Much to the chagrin of his parents, his strange obsessions have kept him away from the path of a warrior like his father - a New Alberian soldier - unwilling to train when he would much rather spend his days ogling the many buxom beauties of the castle. As a humble Roostkeeper, his mother - determined to set him straight - drags him along to assist in her daily tasks. Over time, the boy was delegated more involved tasks to lighten his mother's workload. This posed its own problems, however.

When it came to serving dragons, he would only ever go to the humanoids - specifically the females. By day he would gawk at their large, beautiful bodies with a grin on his face and a tent in his pants, invading their quarters by night to indulge in the sight of their sleeping figures. While his mother was none the wiser, he would continue this behavior much to the disgust of the more perceptive dragons, who if nothing could feel the disturbed mana surrounding him. But be it some miracle of fate or instinct, those he targeted were always in some vulnerable state, unable or unwilling to retaliate, or simply could not be bothered to care. If a human boy would give them an occasional nightly visit, looking at them as he stroked his mating tool, what did it matter? And so, for a time, they all turned a blind eye to the one outlier. All that is, until one fateful day...

○ ○ ○

Newly reborn and free of the clutches of dark mana, Jeanne d'Arc descended upon the Halidom for a short repose to spread the boons of her newfound power to the populace. Among those people was the boy, knowing she should be revered as a holy entity, but unable to see her as anything but an object - eye candy to sate his lust. Never before had he the chance to behold such a beauty, as the saint had not once dwelled in the Roost - keen to travel the land and set wrongs right - but for these few days she made an exception. Hearing this news, the Roostkeeper boy was ecstatic, salivating at the opportunity to get up close and personal with the holy dragon. In particular, a burning question ate away at him. What was the purpose of that diamond shaped hole in her chest plate, centered directly beneath her breasts? In his mind, he could only think of one thing - and he was determined to experience it himself.

That night, when all was quiet, he stole into his mother's quarters to swipe the keys, sights set on Jeanne's temporary quarters. Scampering quickly through the Roost, he slipped in, carefully setting the keys down by the door as he approached the oversized bed. There lay the saint, still clad in her battle armor, laid flat out and seemingly motionless on the bed with her colorful wings draping over on both sides - giving the imagery of a holy tomb. As was the case for many rooms like this, the bed had been custom-made to accommodate draconic tails of any size, allowing her to rest peacefully on her back. Why she still wore her armor was a mystery to the boy, but it was exactly the situation he had dreamed of, so he gave it no more thought.

Rushing forward eagerly while stripping off his pants, he ended up tripping, tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud. Giving a fearful upwards glance, he breathed a sigh of relief, the immobile saint still appearing to be in a deep sleep. With more caution, he clambered onto the bed, straddling the dragon's waist, his legs almost barely going around her. The boy shifted around, metallic plating digging into his rear as he tried to get comfortable. In his struggle, the saint's tightly fitting breastplate shifted upwards a bit, the hole revealing a sight the boy had spent many hours thinking of. Just a glimpse into the bare underside of her breasts was all it took to send even more blood pumping into his already engorged shaft, eliciting a squeal from him which he strained to silence.

With a thrust, he propelled his hips forward, his hands clutching Jeanne's large, silver-clad tits. On any human girl it might have been impossible, but with the dragon's larger body he had no issue slipping his puny shaft through the hole, under the plating, and straight into the dragon's cleavage. It was sublime, the sensation far outshining any toy he had ever tried, and instantly he lurched forward in orgasm. Feebly he spurt his watery seed into her tightly packed tits, most of it pooling around his penis within the divot it created in her breasts. But one time wouldn't be enough to quench his lust.

Still quite erect he quickly got to work, shoving in and out of the saint's firm bosom which enveloped the entirety of his stubby shaft with the pliability and soft touch of a woman, but also the sturdy continence of a warrior. He let his whole body lean over, draping over her chest so that he could sink his hands into the titflesh exposed above. And deeply did they sink, letting him have his fill of their wonderful texture. Now with greater ease, he weaved in and out of her, the product of his premature ejaculation acting as lube. Her tits consumed every fiber of his being as much as it smothered his cock, supple and immaculate as one might expect. Almost as quickly as it had rushed over him the first time, the building sense of release pumped through him as he pounded at her. It was so close, each thrust multiplying the desperate aching feeling in his abdomen. He tensed up, pushing harder and harder, determined to pump his seed all the way through so that it might exit out the top and paint the saint's face white.

"I sense you are quite lost, little one."

He froze, conditioned to become immobile at the first sign of danger despite his aching urge to cum. Trembling, he looked up at Jeanne's face, where there was not a trace of anger to behold. Her eyes were still closed peacefully, but somehow he could feel her gazing into his soul, judging him for all his sins. Carefully the boy pulled out, his pitiful tool shivering as it touched the cool air, free of the pleasurable warmth of the dragon's bosom.

"P-please... I didn't..."

"Rest assured, I do not seek to harm you. Instead, I pray for your salvation."

Confusion lined the boy's face, which was previously scrunched up in preparation for the worst. Would she not punish him, spank him like his mother so often did?

"You have a good heart, little one. I can tell. But your judgment is often clouded by your desire, which drives you to act in such a manner, does it not?"

The words themselves were lost on him, adrenaline coursing through his body and his very being throbbing with shock and need. But the intent and meaning behind them eventually reached him. Somewhere in his heart, he knew her words to be true, feeling a twinge of regret for the first time in his life. This feeling pulled on him heavily, sinking into the pit of his stomach as his erection shrank, withering away while he reconsidered his actions.

"Commendable. The first step is always introspection. Then, you must right your wrongs. Ask for forgiveness, if only that you may forgive yourself. That is how you return to the path of righteousness."

All the women that he had beheld with a lecherous gaze, all the female dragons whose rooms he had sullied with his semen; the victims of his every carnal desire began to flood into his mind. It was too much guilt. How could he possibly right all those wrongs? Even if he could subject himself to the shame of admitting his actions, what could he even do to make things right?

"Take the first step. How far you have strayed matters not. Simply that you choose to return to the light is enough."

Sliding off the dragon, the boy reluctantly knelt on the ground, prostrating himself before the bed. There he lay hunched over for quite some time, still feeling the ever-present gaze of the saint upon his soul. But gradually as he began to open up and deeply consider his faults, it became a calming feeling, as if she was shining a warm light onto his cold heart. All he could feel was her life force, enveloping his own and cleansing it of sin.

"I'm.... sorry," he found himself saying with renewing hope. "For all I've done, I pray for forgiveness."

They were words he had said before to many people, in all kinds of situations. But this time, he truly felt it from the bottom of his heart. It was new territory, and it scared him. But he couldn't deny to himself the feeling of remorse that dominated his psyche.

"Raise your head, and sit here."

Opening his eyes, there was Jeanne, sitting up and beckoning to her lap with bare hands - her iron gauntlets resting by her side. From the hole in her breastplate dripped the remnants of his earlier emission, and he couldn't help the stiffening of his member as he recalled the act - despite his guilt on the matter. Hands covering his crotch shamefully, he obediently he sat upon her thighs. To his surprise, Jeanne reached down and pushed away his hands, taking the small cock in her gentle grip. With just 2 fingers she was able to wrap around its girth, even covering almost its entire length. Then, ever so slowly, she started stroking.

"Your repentance is acknowledged. All that is left now is to strike at the core of your desires and relieve that which plagues you."

Her whole body began to glow, a holy energy engulfing the boy's penis as he felt a rush throughout his body. Instead of simple lust-quenching pleasure, her touch brought a new feeling - one that drew out all his salacious thoughts until his mind was empty. All he could feel was her spirit and soul, wrapped around the root of his libido. Then, in the most blissful orgasm of his life, he shot out all his remaining temptation into the dragon's other hand, cupped around the wriggling member to prevent a mess. For what seemed like an eternity he came, spewing an unhealthy amount of ejaculate as the saint's holy energy continued to flow through him. It was a spout he couldn't turn off, only ending once he was completely drained and feeling faint.

Jeanne, holding out her cupped hand - topped up to the brim with his seed - blew on it lightly as she splayed her fingers. Rather than ooze out, the substance transformed into particles of light, sparkling as they flew out of her open palm and through the window, out into the night sky. The boy watched in awe at the spectacle, and for the first time in his life he felt truly free. Eventually the glimmering fragments of light faded, and looking back at the saint, what remained in her hand was a stone with a multicolored sheen, bearing a striking resemblance to a dragon's claw. Taking his hand in hers, she let it rest in his grip, closing his fingers around it.

"Please accept this token, and never forget what is required of you."

The boy nodded, resting a while in her embrace. Then, as the first rays of dawn shined into the room, he slid off the dragon's lap to retrieve his pants, and the keys. With one last look at the holy figure, he took his leave.

○ ○ ○

Though many things in the world change, war is always a constant. With life, there is connection. With connection, there is conflict. And eventually, these conflicts of interest begets war. Such is the unfortunate cycle, which none can truly comprehend the purpose. On the battlefield, many soldiers rally behind flags representing their loyalty and ideals. There is tell of one man however who, no matter what side he is on, fights for what is righteous and good. That is because the true cause he serves is an ephemeral one that can sometimes be seen in the sky on a clear day - the flag of truth and justice of which only the devout honor. And on days of strife, where dark clouds dot the sky and all seems lost, he holds true, guided by the worn talonstone in his breast pocket which serves as a reminder of his own sin, and his erelong quest to repent.

Because on that day, so many days ago when he was still just a boy, he knew:

No matter how depraved, Jeanne d'Arc never abandons those who are lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Lusille's Notes:  
> With the combined power of the Wishmill, it seems that the Looking Glass can even provide glimpses into the future. This behavior must be put under further investigation as it might lend helpful to the current conflict. Though present are certain events that have not happened yet, or may never happen, I have provided a detailed report so we may prepare for what is to come.
> 
> Afterword:  
> Ok so I'm aware that the opening upon which this entire fic hinges on isn't really a titty window but just like hang in with me here, it works if you stretch your imagination a bit. Also if you're wondering what this new series is about, it'll all make sense soon. One day :)


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